Camp Legacy Chronicles: The Cry of the Dark
by TheWayToCampLegacy
Summary: Megan is confused. First the monster, then the Camp. She can't feel a connection the place in she's supposed to call home. Charlotte is insecure, but she can't show it. How is she supposed to keep it together for her friends sake? Alyssa is terrified. She can barely control her own powers, and she doesn't want to hurt anyone. Can they stop a deadly wave of monsters, or die trying?
1. My Life Goes Waaay Downhill

**_Prologue_**

Sometimes, life as a Legacy sucks.

I've been bullied at school, expelled 20 minutes later, and attacked by hellhound in the next 4 hours. Then I had to escape to Camp with my family, go on a stupid quest, to confront a stupid Titan, then fight in a stupid-

You know what? I'll start from the beginning.

My name is Megan Zhang. I'm a modern day Legacy of Pluto and Mars, daughter of Hazel and Frank Zhang. In short, I'm a hero because my parents were heroes too. And because The Fates were in a great mood to plan a totally awesome fate for an innocent little girl.

If you always wanted to be a hero, and picked up this book to get a sneak peek of what being a hero is like, then I doubt that you'll find that stereotypical, hero-who-always-saves-the-day plot that you were looking for. I'm not convincing you am I? Fine. Read on. But don't say I didn't warn you.

Chapter I

As I stepped into the crowded and noisy lunchroom, I immediately headed to the furthest table, where no one sat. Nearly every pair of eyes in the room focused on me, but I payed no attention. It was the usual routine of Canadian Elementary School for Special Children, to muster a cold stare, then cast it at anyone who entered the lunchroom. Colder ones for the less popular. Even colder ones for the losers.

You see, everyone in the school had either ADHD or dyslexia. It seemed that most of the popular kids were ADHD, and the ignored ones dyslexic. The losers had both. I was a loser. I was the only one with both disorders in the entire school, besides this guy named Gus Lawrence. He was the school bully.

I sat down on the cold metal bench, and tried not to gag at the dirtiness of the table. No one but me sat there, so nobody bothered to clean it.

Opening my bag, I drew out a textbook: 'Fun With Grammar and Comprehension., and set it in front of me. Then I took out a tuna sandwich from my lunchbox.

I had forgotten to study for an English test last night, so I was attempting to eat lunch and cram at the same time, since the test was due after lunch. Trying to balance lunch and homework was a difficult task, because I get stressed easily. Stress leads to anger, which leads to recklessness, which leads to bad grades, which leads to angry teachers, which leads to stress... Well, you get the idea.

But it was that exact moment that started a chain reaction of events, which shaped me into a hero.

Across the room, A tall, lanky, boy clad in 'fashionably' ripped jeans,and one of those typical jock jackets spotted me studying. His dirty blond hair tousled as he snaked his way over to my table. All the other students paused and watched intently, like Ooh, lunch and a show! This was Gus Lawrence.

He slid into the bench beside me. "Hey, Shorty." he said mockingly "Studying at lunch? What a nerd."

I snickered. Gus scowled confusedly. "What's so funny? The only thing funny right now is your face. And it's not even that amusing."

"After all these years Lawrence," I snorted into my textbook, "you still call me Shorty. What kind of name is that? You know I'm 4'11, right?" I pretended to read the rules of using there, they're and their, and hoped that Gus wouldn't be able to find a good comeback.

But my dyslexia started acting up, and the words began to float off the page. My concentration and effort had no effect on the flying verbs and pronouns. And having the school bully looking over my shoulder was helping either. To cut the story, let's just say that I got stressed. Really dang stressed.

Then the unthinkable happened

Gus choked. He looked under the table and gawked. "I-is that a d-diamond?" He reached under my feet, and plucked something off the ground. To my own astonishment, it was in fact, a diamond the size of a walnut.

"You're a witch," Gus whispered hoarsely. Then he raised his voice to the whole lunchroom. "Zhang is a witch! A diamond appeared right under her feet!" He lifted tiny stone above his head as evidence, but his expression was smug. Heads turned, and eyes landed on thousand dollars worth precious stone the School Bully was holding over his head.

Before I knew it, fights broke out for the diamond, whipping everyone into chaos. The noise level rose, greedy hands grabbed for the blue stone.

The whole time, I was watching the scene with wide eyes, unable to do anything. To all the other students, I was just a loser; the kid that no one bothers to befriend, the kid that gets into trouble with the teachers frequently, and the one who was shunned for having the guts to stand up to the school bully.

Teachers flooded into the room, alarmed but prepared. The principal, Mr. Bobofit immediately shouted,"Who is responsible for this?" Eyes looked toward my direction.

The principal stared coldly at me. We might have been special kids, but Mr. Bobofit wouldn't give anything to help a 'problem child'.

"What has given you the notion to bring this jewel," He snatched the diamond out of a student's hands."to this honor school? Did you want attention? Did you do it out of jealously? Tell me Megan. And I want the truth."

The room had gone silent. Students skittered around nervously. Our principal was scary (read: terrifying) when he was angry.

My hands shook. I couldn't bring myself to speak. I stared at the floor. No. I thought. I can't. I just can't.

I slowly reached for the straps of my bag, and weakly met the principal's gaze. Then ran.

That's right. I ran. I sprinted in between tables, past students and teachers, through hallways, and finally out the door.

I was crying and mentally beating myself up for running away the whole time. Heck, I wasn't even sure why I ran.

The principal's voice echoed through the hallway just as I was about to zoom out the door. "Megan Zhang! You are no longer to allowed to attend Canadian Elementary School for Special Children. I repeat, you are expelled."

I almost couldn't hear him when he said the dreaded words. My vision was blurred with tears of shame. That was how I ran. I ran without stopping, and never looking back.

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 **So that's chapter 1 of The Imprisonment of Health! I hope you enjoyed reading it. Just a word of warning, my writing gets a lot better in the later chapters. R &R, please, and constructive criticism is welcome. Don't forget to check out my other story, called A Smiley Faced Bandage. Stay tuned for the next chapter! **


	2. Busted On An Empty Stomach (Or am I?)

**Disclaimer: I do NOT own Heroes of Olympus, or Percy Jackson and The Olympians, though I wish I did. All rights go to Rick Riordan.**

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Three kilometers. That was how far the distance was from the school to my house. That was also how far I ran.

You would think that I might have collapsed of exhaustion after the first twenty minutes. Truth be told...I almost did. But my strong legs and burning desire to escape the building behind my back kept me going.

When my gaze fell upon the red bricked walls of my home, I pushed my feet against the dirt even harder. The light on the porch wasn't switched on, which meant that no one was at home. Good.

I stormed up the porch, unlocked the door, and not bothering to even kick my Converse off made a beeline to my room.

Locking the door behind me, I threw down my bag and started to sob. The tears that fell from my eyes were not tears of sadness, nor were they tears of pain. They were tears of shame. I was ashamed of running from school. I was ashamed that my parents would be disappointed in me. Most of all, I was ashamed of running from punishment even though it wasn't my fault.

I took a glance around my room. It was nothing special, just a simple, box shaped space that was taken up mostly by a bed, a desk, and dresser. But the badminton racket hung over my bed was crooked, and the dresser was littered with snack wrappers, pencils, and eraser shavings. The bed was unmade. When I looked into the mirror I could see an extremely distressed kid who's too big gray hoodie was rumpled, and her jeans smudged with dirt. Her raven black hair was sticking to the sides of her tear stained face. Deep in her eyes, you could feel a barrier that was struggling to hold back a tidal wave of mixed emotions that threatened to spill.

Suddenly angry, I snatched up the diamond beside me and almost hurled it through the window, before I realized that the diamond I held in my hand wasn't the diamond that caused all the trouble in school. What the heck?

How did it get here? Did I take it from the principal? Were my parents hiding diamonds in my room? Did it follow me home? Did I summon it?

My curiosity got the best of me. I picked up the stone. It was slightly larger the than the first diamond, the size of an acorn. "If I did summon this diamond," I said out loud. "could I control it?"

I concentrated on the shiny surface. I wanted it to float up and zip around the room doing loop-de-loops and 360s. But some other part of me half-hoped that it wouldn't, and I could confirm that Mom and Dad had a stash of diamonds locked in a box under my bed, and somehow, one had mysteriously made its way to the floor.

But rise the diamond did...only to collapse two seconds later; probably because I was so shocked that it actually worked. "What the freaking heck?" I murmured.

I tried again, but this time I held out my palm and beckoned the stone to me. The diamond lifted up into the air, then hovered over my outstretched hand for a few seconds before it dropped with a _thud_.

I repeated the exercise again and again, until I could finally keep the diamond in the air for a count of thirty.

By that time, I was pretty tired and hungry. Levitating diamonds sure was a mental workout.

I unlocked the door, and slipped outside. I glanced at the cuckoo clock mounted on the wall over the fireplace. It was 2:17. I gasped in disbelief. Had I really been practicing that long?

Suddenly I heard something like a growl. I quickly scanned the living room for any potential danger that I should scream and run from (Gee, more running!). But then it disappeared, so I dismissed it as my stomach.

I set off toward the kitchen to make a sandwich, because a.) I didn't take a bite out of my lunch, and b.) I liked sandwiches.

When I was three paces away from my sandwich, someone spoke. "Looks like somebody's home early." I stiffened. How much trouble would I be in now? I slowly turned around with my hands where they could see them, to face my father, mother, and brother.

A little bit about my parents. Dad is a tall, buff, Chinese Canadian man. He has straight black hair that was pointed like an arrow, and deep, chocolate brown eyes. He seems like a fairly terrifying guy on first glance (believe me, if Dad was the one who picked me up at school, Gus wouldn't have even dared.), but behind his tough looks and aura of military commander, there was a man who almost cried out of joy when he found out that his daughter wasn't lactose intolerant like he was.

But Mom, however, was a different story. She was petite and dark skinned, with long, curly, cinnamon brown hair, and striking gold eyes I've wanted since I was young. Her kindness was one of the best things I loved about her, and she was willing to help just about anyone. She loved horses, and wasn't afraid to smack the riding crop out of the hands of jockey who abused his steed.

Then there was my older brother Sean. He was fourteen, dark skinned and curly haired, like Mom, but had brown eyes like Dad. He held the title of Teens Yo yo Trick Champion, and was playing with his beloved yo yo at that moment. He liked to pull bad pranks, bad jokes, and bad puns. But he has his moments, and I look up to him as the best older brother in the world.

I tried for a smile. "Uh, hi Mom. Hi Dad." I nodded to my brother. "Sean. Why are you home so early?"

Sean yawned, apparently bored. I could tell because his eyes had that sleepy look that screamed, I WANNA SLEEP, BUT I'M TO BORED TO SLEEP! "Why are you home so early? Mom got a call at work from Mr. Babafat, then she called Dad, then they had to pick me up at school. Imagine being called by your teacher to the front desk, then marched out in front of everyone, in your favorite class." (Sean's favorite class is art. He draws like Mom, but he prefers doodling to sketching.) "And guess what? I was already working up the courage to talk to the pretty girl who sits three desks in front of me!"

I secretly hoped that Mom and Dad would be absorbed in Sean's rant, to the point that I could slip away -unnoticed- and disappear of the face of the planet.

Until...

"Sean," Mom chided. "Lay her off a little. She's still in shock. And speaking of that," She turned toward me a looked me straight in the eye. Shoot. Why didn't I disappear of the face of the planet sooner?

"Megan," Mom started. The look in her eyes was firm, but I sensed that something was troubling her. "There's something very important that we have to tell you."

 **R &R!**


	3. The Confession That Would Change My Life

**'Sup guys? Here's chapter three of The Imprisonment of Health, so enjoy! I'll hopefully be updating every Monday, so look out for a new chapter next week!**

 **Disclaimer: This is a FANFICTION WEBSITE, that has an archive of stories DEDICATED to the works of Uncle Rick. WHY DO WE NEED DISCLAIMERS TO SAY WE DON'T OWN THE FRANCHISE?** ** _EVERYONE KNOWS NONE OF US ARE THE ORIGINAL AUTHOR! *_** **Clears throat* Excuse me for the little rant I had, but seriously guys, disclaimers are completely unnecessary.**

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I braced myself for the worst. Maybe Mom and Dad were getting divorced. But then I thought, Nah, nothing could ever break the bond of their love. Maybe they would ground me for life, then not allow me to leave the house except for Sean's wedding, as punishment for getting myself kicked out of the only school in the area (We lived in the armpit of nowhere).

Or maybe -gasp- they wouldn't allow me to watch TV until I was in highschool, and take away my laptop so I couldn't play Minecraft anymore.

Good news: none of the above happened. Bad news: What happened was even worse.

Mom took a deep breath. "What we're about to tell you, is about who your father and I really are."

Maybe if I wasn't so shocked about what my mom had just said, I would've said something other than: "What do you mean, who you really are?"

Dad stepped in and put a hand on Mom's shoulder. "What we're trying to say, is that we're not normal." I opened my mouth to speak, but Dad raised a hand, and I remained silent. "No, we're not aliens from another planet with plans of world domination. We are also not spies for a secret organization that creates drugs that shrink people. Your mother and I are demigods."

"Demigods?" I asked.

"It means half-god and half human." Sean said bluntly, with no sense of drama. "Can I go doodle now?"

"No." Came Mom's reply.

"What about a snack?"

"Fine. Five minutes."

"Can you make me some coffee while you're at it?" Dad shouted after Sean, who was disappearing into the kitchen.

Silence.

"Do I have to?" Said a grumpy fourteen year old.

"Don't forget to use the almond milk." Dad hollered as he followed his son into the kitchen to make sure that he didn't slip any lactose into his coffee.

I made a time out gesture. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. What about me? I didn't eat lunch!"

"I could make you a sandwich." Mom suggested.

"Deal." I said. "But back to the actual subject, when you say half-god, are you trying to say that half of your DNA was inherited from an ancient, mythological, deity?"

Mom smiled. "That's just about right."

"So you all knew about this the whole time?" I asked at the table over a platter of PB&J.

Mom nodded. "Yes. But we were hoping that you wouldn't find out so soon."

"Why is that?"

She pursed her lips, and set down her sandwich. "Well, it seems that whenever a person descended from a deity lives his life normally, then the news is suddenly broken to him, his scent grows stronger. Your father and I have a particularly strong one."

"What makes a scent?"

"It comes from your godly ancestors. The more powerful god your ancestor was, the stronger your scent will be."

"You said that you and Dad have a strong scent. Who were your ancestors?"

Mom cocked her head to the side as if listening to an invisible force for advice on answering my question. Finally she exhaled and said "My father was Pluto. Your father's father was Mars."

"Pluto? As in 'God of Death and Riches' Pluto?"

"That's the one."

Dad slid into the seat next to Mom. "And yes, Megan, my dad was the roman god of war. Mind you, not the one in the video game. If you ever meet him, do not bring up that subject. He would rip your arms off and beat your head with it."

Mom scowled. "Frank, isn't that too much?"

Dad raised his hands in a _so what?_ gesture. "But I was just quoting Percy!"

At least that's what I thought I'd heard. I swallowed. "Advice taken, Dad."

I stared down at my sandwich. If I took it apart, I could see that the jelly was in the middle of the sandwich, and the peanut butter acted as a cage. That way, the jelly wouldn't spill out all over my fingers. Mom had made it exactly the way I liked. I was very picky about my snacks.

"So," I said. "What's so bad about having a strong scent?"

Dad shuddered. "Monsters attack, and try to kill you."

"You get more powerful, then get noticed by certain people who would like to have you under their control." Mom added.

Sean grinned. "I actually asked Dad if I needed some sort of Olympian level of deodorant to cover up the stink!"

"That actually sounds like a good idea." I said. "You do stink." We all laughed it off, but the heinous thought of fighting monsters that could kill you after one wrong move, crawled up my spine like an army of impending ants.

"Speaking of monsters," I said casually. "When do they attack?"

Mom suddenly paled. "Speaking of _that_ , we should get going!"

Dad pushed his chair back with a loud _screeeeech!_ "Your mom is right. Go to your room, and pack enough to last for a week." The tone of his voice was that of a military commander. "We need to leave as soon as possible."

"Where are we going?" I asked in confusion as my brother and I were shooed off to the stairs.

Mom caught my gaze. The look in her eyes was deadly serious, but you could almost see a tiny shred of excitement. "We're going to Camp Legacy. One of the only places in the world that's safe for you

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 **Sorry if the chapter was a little short, but I'll try and make it up to you guys next week. Don't forget to R &R, and constructive criticism is always welcome. PEACE! **


	4. Something's Wrong With My Peanut Butter

**I know. I'm a horrible person. But hey, at least you guys got a chapter to read! I'll hopefully be posting another chapter on Monday next week (*gets struck by lightning* Screw it), but don't count on it.**

 **R &R what you thought. Constructive stuff is always welcome. Enjoy Megan's suffering!**

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I ran up the stairs in a hurry. Pushing the door to my room open, I snatched up my bag and, and tipped its contents out onto my already messed up bed. Textbooks, pencils, notebooks, and an apple wrapped with plastic tumbled out. I slipped my laptop and its charger into the laptop sleeve. I selected the warmest and most comfortable clothes that were suited for winter. I shoved a lightweight Polartec jacket inside. Anything that would help me endure the dangerous elements of the Canadian wilderness, into the bag it went.

Finally, when the bag was full to the point of bursting, I managed to shove in one last thing. It was a book called The Art of War, by Sun Tzu. You would think that with ADHD, dyslexia, and idiotic teachers that didn't care about their students personal lives, I would never have had time to sit down and quietly read. But the book was a birthday present from Dad, and it didn't seem fair to leave it behind to collect dust on a desk.

As I was about to step out the door, I took one more desperate glance around the room, incase there was anything that I had left behind. My eyes landed on my badminton racket. At just one look, I was reliving my past, when I was obsessed with the whooshing sound of the racket swinging through the air. I could hear my happy little squeals when the shuttlecock I smacked sailed past my Dad and landed on the other side of the court. Now I was potentially leaving the sport I loved most behind.

I ripped myself out of the memory and forced my hands to pull the door closed. What good would a badminton racket be in the Canadian wilderness anyway? I took a step towards my future life that lacked the awesomeness of badminton.

"Oh, what the heck." I muttered as I kicked the door open again and snatched the racket off the wall. _Screw practicality,_ said the sentimental part of me to my brain as I headed down the stairs.

* * *

I was in for a surprise when I reached the bottom of the stairs.

Mom and Dad, they looked so - I almost couldn't find the word to describe it, when it suddenly popped into my head. _Different._

Mom was sitting at the dining room table, twiddling her thumbs like she always did when she was worried. I'd seen her do this many times, but this was the first I had seen wearing armor and a sword scabbard. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, which I had never seen her wear before. There was a golden helmet resting in front of her.

Dad was pacing the floor beside a stack of suitcases, no doubt the things that they were taking with them. He too, was wearing armor, but instead of a sword at his side, he had a bow and quiver slung across his back. The way he walked with his eyebrows furrowed in deep concentration was like a worried general debating weather to pull his troops back or not.

"Mom? Dad?" I called to my parents. Mom looked up from the table. Dad snapped out of his trance like pacing and regarded me with those kind brown eyes. "Yes, Megan?" He asked.

"I'm ready to go." I replied, as if it was just a normal day of Dad dropping me off at school.

"Alright. Once Sean comes down, we can get Silver then go."

I would've smacked my forehead in realization about forgetting my horse, but I heard a squeaking sound coming from behind me, and never had the chance.

A guinea pig had slid down the stairway banister, squealing as it went down. And its rear end was coming _dangerously_ close to my hand, which was still on the railing. I yanked my hand away with a yelp.

The guinea pig dropped onto the floor, then suddenly started to grow. Its body lengthened, its face was flattening out and its eyes were rapidly morphing from beady black to cheeky brown. I'll stop it right there. To be honest, the whole scene was a _tad_ bit gross and disturbing. Suddenly the guinea pig I just witnessed changing shape had morphed into my own brother (I take it back. The scene was waaay disturbing).

Sean grinned at me while I spluttered "W-what just happened?" A guinea pig turned into my brother. No way. It's just a joke. A _very funny_ joke. Haha. Maybe the peanut butter in my sandwich had been tampered with, and that was making me see stuff. That's it! I tried to tell myself.

"Sean, stop teasing your sister. She's already had so much to deal with today." Dad scolded.

Sean shrugged. "Okay."

"B-but, how?!" I cried. Looking back on it now, I might've looked pretty silly with my squeaky little voice, but at that moment, I was pretty stumped.

Mom let a sound like an understanding sigh. She smiled at me. "The way your brother does it is the same way you can control precious metals and gems."

My jaw dropped. I totally forgot that I was trying to keep 'that' a secret.

"About that," I started.

"Not to worry," Dad said picking up the bags and moving in the direction of the back door. "you got it from us."

"From you?" I asked.

"We _are_ demigods after all. We usually receive powers from our godly parents." Dad replied. "Because you and Sean are our children, you each get a little bit of the gene that our parents passed to us. You got your powers from mother. Your brother got his powers from me."

I thought about it. But one detail bothered me. "Mom?" I called.

Mom placed a hand on my shoulder and looked into my eyes. "Yes, Megan?"

"If we got our powers from you and Dad," I said. "how come you've never used them? Like when you told us that you were demigods, I would've thought that you would demonstrate to prove you were telling the truth."

She opened her mouth to reply, but hesitated. She pursed her lips.

"I can't tell you right now." Mom sighed. "But I can tell you one day."

Well that answered my question.

"Well," Dad broke the awkwardness. "We should really get going now." He picked up his coffee mug and peeked through the blinds of the kitchen window. His eyes widened. His coffee mug hit the floor and shattered. Coffee spilled everywhere.

"Frank?" Mom asked worriedly. "Frank what's wrong?"

"Di Immortales." Dad started breathing heavily. "Nothing _ever_ made it this far!"

Mom ran to the window and carefully looked out. She gasped and backed away, murmuring "That's impossible. The magic can't have worn out so soon…"

"What's going on?" I said. I didn't understand what was going on. Suddenly my tough and battle worn parents were crumbling like a sandcastle.

Sean came close to me and put his arm over my shoulders, as if to protect me. His eyes were wide with fear. "I think that's one of the monsters Mom and Dad were telling us about."

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 **LATER PEEPS**.


	5. Worst Birthday Gift EVER

**Hey guys! I know, I know, I haven't updated in like, a year, and I apologize to the few people who actually clicked on this story. I promise, my writing's got a lot better, and I've got the plot worked out. I'm introducing a new character in this chapter; The one who embodies my emotions, and my sensitivity : Charlotte Jackson.**

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Meanwhile, on the other side of the world...

 _ **BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!**_

I groaned and slammed my hand into the button of my alarm clock. It's face read 5:47 am. I groaned again and started to rub the sleep out of my eyes. "Why does school have to start so early?"

"Charlie! Get up, or your breakfast is going to get cold!" Mom called from downstairs. I could hear the muffled sound of a frypan at work doing what it does guessed it. _Frying things_.

"I'm coming!" I called back to my mother jumping out of bed and surveying the mess of my room for my grey school uniform. As usual, it was nowhere to be found among the piles of clothes, textbooks (that's right. PILES OF TEXTBOOKS) and junk (aka textbooks). I let out a sigh and started to dig around in the mess.

 _I really should clean this up sometime soon_ I thought as I separated _more_ textbooks from a mound of clothes. After a few more minutes of searching, I uncovered my uniform from under a heap of t-shirts and shorts. It was badly wrinkled from being stuck down there, but not that it mattered. I never really cared.

After getting changed and attempting to tame the wild side of my jet black waves, I raced down the red carpeted stairs only to nearly crash into a tiny figure dressed in grey with a shock gold hair .

"Damien!" I shouted indignantly. "Stop going down the middle of the stairs! You know what could happen if I crashed into you!"

He frowned and said "Your shirt is wrinkled."

You could say that Damien and I were polar opposites. He loved school. I hated it. He was a neat person. I was a messy unorganized one. His vision sucked (hence the thick black spectacles). Mine was perfect. His golden blond hair was perfectly combed every morning (and managed to _stay_ that way) while mine was black maelstrom of knots and curls. But I still loved him anyways, even though it may _never_ look that way.

"C'mon bro." I said. "Give me a chance would ya?"

He shrugged. "Fine by me." He started to head down the stairs towards the kitchen. Halfway down, he turned back to look at me and said "By the way, you should really brush you hair."

Then he took off as fast as his little pathetic feet would take him while I shouted his name and ten thousand death threats to the little demon.

I guess it bears repeating. Damien loved to annoy me.

I came sliding down the stair banister in search for the little douche I called brother, not giving a damn if my skirt got wrinkled (or bloody) in the process.

I entered the living room, which was extremely homey, especially counting the bright sea green carpeting and stormy grey highlights on the walls. Mom was a stay at home architect, and designed the rooms. I had a feeling that the floor carpet and grey walls had something to do with the shade of my parent's eyes. They matched the colour scheme perfectly.

We had a decent sized entertainment centre that came with a Wii and Xbox, but heck, those consoles were _old_. You would think that in this beautiful year of 20XX, Dad would've gotten one of the newer virtual reality sets that came with _Cry of War_ , or _Desk Job_ , but noooo, he HAD to stick with the retro sets from 'his time'.

I checked for my brother behind the curtains that led to a balcony, but he wasn't there. I took a moment to open the balcony, then pried the lock open with my fingers and tugged the sliding door open. I took a step outside and the wind greeted my presence by ruffling up my hair to the point to where it would never be tidy, much like the way my father greeted me whenever I saw him.

I looked down at the busy streets of Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia. Even at 6 o'clock in the morning, the streets were buzzing with life. Hawker stalls sold breakfast and the _mamaks_ were baking _naan_ while well clothed businessmen sat at tables and sipped _teh tarik._ All around me, other red bricked condominiums rose out of the ground, much like the very one I lived in.

But alas, my mission to find the scumbag I was related to failed, partly due to the reason that I was hungry, and that I would give up bringing vengeance to my brother for food.

I strolled into the dining room, breathing in the yummy aroma of fresh fried rice, and wondering where Damien was. I heard the faintest of giggles coming from left of me. I turned and looked, and I can tell you the glare coming from my soul's windows was _not_ pretty. The little demon was sitting at the head of the table, shoving rice into his mouth and looking triumphant at the fact that I had failed to find and murder him.

I scowled. "Look here, you foul little…" I was about to stroll up to him and beat the snot out of his puny being, then drown him in a pool of his own-

"Happy Birthday Charlie!" I jumped in surprise, then promptly introduced my palm to my forehead. It takes an ADHD girl like me to forget that today was the day that I was turning thirteen.

Mom set me down in one of the chairs, and pushed a plate of food in front of me while Dad ruffled my hair, effectively making it more untameable than it already was. Not that I really cared though. I just wanted to eat. I started shovelling fried rice into my mouth, and my tongue would've sat up and sang if it possibly could.

"Love ya hon." Dad grinned.

I gave a muffled 'thank you' as best as I could, since my mouth was full. A bit of chewing and a glass of iced tea later, I managed to clear my plate completely.

I took a deep breath and leaned back into the chair, satisfied with the meal.

"Thanks Mom. Thanks Dad." I said, before I picked up my iced tea glass and started crunching on an ice cube.

"We still have another surprise, you know." Dad's eyes twinkled. Mom barely hid her wide smile.

I cracked a piece of ice between my teeth. "Mm?" I didn't really care about gifts. I was pretty content with the food.

"Oh, you are going to _love_ this." If Dad was any younger, I would've bet on a happy dance.

"I wouldn't." Damien said. Mom shot him a dirty look. He shrugged it off, and reached for a second helping of food.

I glanced up, and my eyes found the clock. It was now 6:45 am, about time to leave for school, which started at 7:00 am (School ends at 4. We suffer.).

"I guess the surprise is going to have to wait." I said, starting to get up.

"But that is the surprise." Mom said.

"Wait what?"

Dad finally burst. "Birthday girls don't have to go to school!"

My jaw went slack. My eyes widened. My heart started to pound, and my head swam, Dad's words repeating themselves in my brain.

 _Birthday girls don't have to go to school._

That day, I thought I'd be curled up in the couch watching old re-runs of _Steven Universe._ I didn't think that Mom would tell me _that_.

Worst. Birthday. Gift. EVER.

* * *

 **Ah, minor cliffies. I love writing them XD. Tell me if you loved it, tell me if it sucked, I don't really care. JK. I care a lot.**


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